the underwear drawer

aloha

We'll be leaving for Hawaii in the morning. We're packed. The dog is all set to be dropped off at the Spa for a week of tennis and Pilates. We have snacks and books picked out for our flight. (My books are fiction. Joe has unbelievably chosen to bring an ophthalmology textbook and a stack of journal articles. Who is this man?) Our boarding passes are printed out. As of the time this post is being written, ATA is bankrupt but still continues to fly. Ghetto-ass airline, next time we're flying Jet Blue. Hello, Direct TV. Does Jet Blue even fly to Hawaii?

This will be our first vacation together since we got married a year and a half ago. Gee, time flies when you're being a working drone. Full trip report and photos when we get back.

New on the photo project: Autumn in Central Park part 1 and part 2. I'm glad I had my camera because when February rolls around and the park is all grey and icy and inhospitable, I'm going to look at those pictures and not be able to believe that it was every so gorgeous out there. Until next fall, that is.

Currently reading: Nothing at the moment because I'm saving all of my books for the plane. But here's what I'm bringing with me:

• "The Corrections" (which I've hoarded and forced myself not to read up until now because you guys told me it was Tony the Tiger grrrr-eat! travel reading)

• "Memoirs of a Geisha" (purely a bookstore drive-by impulse buy, because I'd heard of the title, and I figured I should read it before they make the movie and ruin it for me)

• "The Stories of John Cheever" (because if I keep picking at this thing, story by story, I'll finally read the whole thing)

• "A Widow for One Year" (because I have to read one John Irving book every time I'm on vacation, even if it's the same one over and over again--"The Cider House Rules", I'm looking at you)

• "Magical Thinking" (because I have this strange thing with Augusten Burroughs, where I think he's an egomaniac and not even an especially brilliant writer--like, hello poor man's David Sedaris, I could totally write a book like yours, except for the whole psychotic-upbringing-homosexual-alcoholic thing--and yet I voraciously devour every single thing he's ever written. Dammit.)